


Tombstones In Their Eyes

by siriuspiggyback



Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Amputation, Drug Addiction, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-06-26 15:12:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 12,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19770850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/siriuspiggyback/pseuds/siriuspiggyback
Summary: His siblings don't pay a lot of attention to Klaus, don't notice the dog tags and new tattoos, but even the Hargreeves have to notice a missing limb.





	1. Hello In There

**Author's Note:**

> another wip because im trash

  
  


Klaus wailed.

There was no other word for it. The sound was animal and unabashed, barely heard by Klaus. An autonomic reaction, no more intentional than the beat of his heart, the open-close of valves. There were words mixed in - calls for a medic that wasn’t coming - but they had mostly petered out some time after Dave took his final breath, shed his last tear, his eyes fixed unseeingly on the smoke clouded sky.

Klaus rocked, and the pitch of his cries wobbled with it. He was frozen in his agony. He kept thinking about the briefcase tucked under his bunk. He could go back, couldn’t he? Couldn’t he? It was his best chance, but he couldn’t bring himself to let go of the- of the- of Dave. Gunshots hit the dirt close by, but Klaus barely flinched. Being shot didn’t sound quite as terrible as it had yesterday. 

Here’s the thing.

Here’s the thing. Dave couldn’t be dead. He just couldn’t, because Dave had  _ promised _ not to do that, not to leave him, and Dave wasn’t like Klaus, he wasn’t a liar. Dave couldn’t be dead. 

So why wouldn’t he wake up?

Klaus felt his stomach twist violently, and he shuffled back and heaved over the jungle ground, spitting up bile and not much else. Between the anticipation of battle, the pills, and the mush they called food out here, he hadn’t eaten much. He spat, breathing hard, and moved back to where Dave lay.

Something hit the ground nearby.

“ _ Get down!” _

Moving on pure instinct, Klaus flung his body over Dave’s, shielding him the only way he could, and lifted a hand to hold his helmet down.

The explosion was deafening.

Heat licked at Klaus, burning exposed skin, and for a moment that was all he could think of, how hot he was, but then sound began to return and his awareness with it. Something hot and wet ran down his left arm and dripped over the rim of his helmet. And it hurt. God, did it hurt. He dropped his arm down in front of him. 

He should be screaming. Shrieking. Begging for help. That’s what he thought when Klaus stared down at what remained of his arm. A large piece of shrapnel had embedded itself in his forearm, cutting through skin and muscle and splintering bone in its wake. It was almost completely severed, his limp hand hanging by a strip of flesh. 

If he hadn’t put the arm over his head, it would most likely have sunk into his skull, leaving his body slumped with Dave. No such luck.

He stood. He should probably get some help. Dave always told him that he didn’t look after himself enough. Dave always-

Klaus felt his knees give out underneath him. Oh, he thought. Sorry, Dave.

“Shit! Hargreeves!”

A pair of strong hands grabbed his shoulders, preventing him from toppling face first into the dirt. Dark eyes were staring, wide and concerned. For a moment, Klaus thought  _ Diego _ but no, wrong year, not yet. It was Alviso, of course it was. “C’mon, man, we gotta go,” he said, half dragging Klaus along.

“Wait- Dave-” Klaus slurred, drooping, pale.

“Where?” said Alviso, urgent, but then he must have seen the look on Klaus face, his tear swollen eyes, and his expression changed. “Oh, fuck. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, but we gotta leave him, man.”

“No,” protested Klaus, half delirious from blood loss. “Wait-”

“We gotta get you to a medic,” said Alviso, pulling Klaus’ good arm over his shoulders.

“But- Dave-” said Klaus. 

Then, he soundly passed the hell out.

It was probably a mercy.

  
  
  


He woke up screaming.

Klaus was not unfamiliar with pain. Between being a child superhero and a homeless drug addict, he had experienced his fair share of injuries. 

Nothing compared to this.

“-he’s waking up!”

“-shouldn’t wear off for another-”

“-give him another-”

He writhed, wretched, and turned his head to look at his arm, but he could barely make out anything beyond the red slick of blood.

He was too out of it to notice the nurse sticking a needle into the IV port.

He was unconscious again soon after.

  
  
  
  
  


The next time he woke up, the pain was a dull ache, and his mind was hazy.

“Hey. Hey, Hargreeves, you’re okay.”

Klaus rolled his head to the side, a movement which took monumental effort. He blinked his eyes until the figure at his bedside took form. “Alviso?”

“Yeah, man,” said Alviso, voice soft and low.

“What… What happened?” said Klaus. He swallowed. His mouth was dry and tasted foul.

Alviso’s eyes flicked away and back again, face pinched. He took out something metal from his pocket, pressed it into Klaus’ hand.

Dave’s dog tags.

Memories hit him like a gut punch. 

Dave. Dave. Dave.

Oh god.

He looked to his left. His arm ended in a short stump below the elbow. His umbrella tattoo was gone. And his palm tattoo.

_ No more goodbyes, _ he thought, a thin giggle bubbling up from his chest, escaping his mouth in bursts.

“Klaus?” said Alviso, wary.

Klaus laughed and laughed and laughed.

He laughed until his stomach hurt and tears ran down his face. Then, when he ran out of laughter, he sobbed.

A comforting hand touched his shoulder, and Klaus tore himself away. He was gasping for air, choking on it, shoulders hitching and trembling. He curled into himself, eyes shut tight, because he couldn’t,  _ he couldn’t- _

Someone was saying  _ calm down _ and  _ breathe _ and  _ Private Hargreeves,  _ but he was too far gone to listen. He grabbed at the bandages, needing to see it, to  _ know _ that it was gone-

Something pricked his arm, and he slumped back down, muscles lax and eyes flickering shut.

  
  
  


When he next woke, he could tell that they had begun weaning him off the sedatives, although his tongue felt thick with the amount of painkillers in his blood. He wasn’t ready to be awake yet, but it didn’t seem that he had a choice.

He was alone this time.

He didn’t look at his left arm. He didn’t want to think about that. Instead, he looked to his right hand, where the dog tags were still held. He pushed himself up awkwardly, lopsided, and slid the tags over his head, letting them drop to rest by his heart. 

It seemed fitting that he had lost a limb. Like his body was reflecting his soul. The loss of Dave was a gnawing absence, a gaping wound. Something vital, gone forever. Compared to Dave, his arm was the less debilitating loss.

A nurse bustled over, fussing over his bandages and checking his chart. “How are you feeling, Private?” she asked.

“Like I’ve just been on an extreme weight loss diet,” said Klaus, not quite able to make his voice match his playful words.

She eyed him for a moment. “You lost a lot of blood, went into hypovolemic shock. It was a close one. You were lucky.”

“I feel lucky,” he muttered.

The nurse didn’t acknowledge this. “Now that you’re stable enough to move, we’ll be evacuating you to an army hospital in Japan soon, and then you’ll be stateside in no time!” she said optimistically. Klaus didn’t bother to tell her that everyone he knew in this decade was right here.

“Great,” Klaus croaked. 

“A few men from your unit asked to be informed when you woke up. You must be a popular one, huh? I'll see if I can find someone,” she said.

“Okay,” said Klaus. The conversation seemed particularly exhausting.

She was soon back with Brooks, who smiled wildly as ever at Klaus. “Hey, brother! You’re getting out of the shit! Can you believe it?”

“Only had to lose half an arm to do it,” said Klaus, a thin smile plastered on.

“The guys- we’ll all miss you, you know.”

Klaus throat felt tight. He blinked fast. “Yeah.”

Brooks’ eyes caught on the dog tags around his neck. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, grin faltering, “about Dave. I know you two were- well, y’know.” He did know. Klaus and Dave had been the worst kept secret in their unit. No one ever said anything outright. No one needed to.

Klaus blew out a shuddering breath, trying to keep his expression even. “Me too.”

They sat in haunted silence for a minute, conversation failing under the weight of their grief.

“Brooks,” said Klaus, tense suddenly, “I need you to do me a favour.”

“Sure,” he replied easily. 

“Under my bunk, there’s a briefcase. I need you to bring it to me.”

“Alright,” said Brooks, drawing the word out, confused.

“But Brooks. You can’t open it,” said Klaus.

Brooks shrugged. “Sure thing.”

“No, listen,” said Klaus, latching onto the other man’s sleeve. “Swear you won’t open it. Swear- Swear on Dave.”

Brooks’ jaw ticked at Dave’s name. The two had been friends since before Klaus had even fallen into the 60’s. “I swear,” he said at last.

Klaus deflated with a nod. Brooks marched out efficiently, a soldier’s walk.

When he returned, he was carrying the briefcase with an almost comedic amount of care, as if it might explode on him. “Here,” he said, laying it gently on Klaus’ lap.

“Thanks, man,” Klaus said, letting his hand brush the old leather. 

“The rest of the guys are on watch,” said Brooks. “They’re gonna be bummed about missing you leave.”

“Tell them bye from me, yeah?”

“Of course,” said Brooks. “And hey, if you ever end up around Chicago…”

Klaus half smiled. “Sure thing.”

Brooks stood, rocked on his heels. “See you.”

“Bye, Brooks,” said Klaus, an air of finality to it.

With one last smile, Brooks was gone.

Klaus looked down at the suitcase in his lap. With a shaking hand, he flicked open one latch, then the other. He held his breath, like he was diving underwater.

Then, he opened the briefcase.

  
  



	2. The State I'm In

Klaus was on a bus.

Not the bus he wanted. Not the bus he was on when he first spoke to Dave, shy and panicking and tripping over his words as they rumbled along pockmarked roads.

He was on the bus he had taken back in 2019, when he was bloody and coming down and so goddamn naive. 

The man to his left was looking at him strangely. Klaus thought that was fair. He was wearing only a hospital gown, dog tags and bandages. Someone had cleaned him down at some point, but his hair was stiff with dirt and grease. His feet were bare. And he was missing half his arm.

The bus came to a stop and he stumbled out, blinking against the sun. He was back in 2019. He was alive. He was alone.

Dave should have been there.

His knees felt insubstantial, and he wobbled and fell, off balance. He landed in a heap on the concrete, briefcase clattering and sparking. The world span, and he closed his eyes against it, allowing himself to tilt until he was on his good side against the ground, cold against his cheek. He keened, breath ragged. 

Why the hell hadn’t he saved Dave? He should have grabbed him and left the war behind, and now it was too late. By now, Dave had been rotting in the ground for fifty years. 

“Um- Sir?” said a hesitant voice. It was hard to distinguish over the ringing that had been muffling his left ear since he woke up in the field hospital.

Then, another voice, hissing, “Dude, don’t get too close. What if he’s, like, violent?”

“But look at him! He needs help!”

“So call an ambulance! He could be  _ dangerous _ .”

Klaus opened his eyes. The world was a smear of bright lights, tears in his eyes, making it difficult to see. He could make out two figures close by - young women by the looks of them. He was probably scaring them, freaking out on the street like that. Klaus attempted to sit upright, but it was difficult with his good arm trapped under himself.

The closer woman reached forward, probably to lend a hand (ha), but he flinched away at the sudden contact.

The other woman, who had been eyeing Klaus warily, sighed in defeat and squatted down, subtly shouldering her friend out of the way. “Hey,” she said, voice soft but firm, “can you tell me your name?”

He licked his lips. “Klaus.”

“Okay, Klaus,” she said. “I’m Bree. Are you hurt? Do you need an ambulance?”

“No,” said Klaus, maybe a tad too emphatically. “No, no, I’m okay.”

“Alright. Is it okay if I touch you? I can help you sit up.”

Klaus nodded jerkily, face flushing. The woman scooped a strong hand under his chest, and gripped his shoulder with the other. She pulled him upright, and he got his shaky arm underneath himself, levering himself into sitting. Black dots appeared in his vision for a moment.

The first girl, Not-Bree, said, “Do you need to, like, go back to the hospital?”

Klaus shook his head, which was a mistake when it throbbed in retaliation.

“Do you have somewhere to go?” asked Bree.

Klaus squinted. “Yeah,” he said. “I- I should go home. My siblings…”

“Alright, how far away?” queried Not-Bree.

Klaus swivelled and looked around in an attempt to orient himself. Luckily, he knew these streets well. “Not that far.”

“We’ll walk you there,” said Bree decisively. “Is this yours?” She reached and pulled the briefcase closer.

“Don’t- Be careful,” said Klaus, heart thumping. “Don’t open it.”

“I won’t,” she said, seemingly unphased. “Is it okay if I give it to Eva here? And then I can help you walk.”

“I can walk,” said Klaus, turning defensive.

“Sure,” said Bree, “But you look like shit, and if you pass out I won’t be able to carry you.”

“Okay. Okay, but don’t open it, okay?” he said, turning to Eva with manic eyes.

“Promise,” she said. 

Bree passed the briefcase over, and held out a hand as Klaus pushed himself onto his feet. Lightheaded, he wavered for a moment, but Bree was quick to steady him. “Which way?” 

Klaus muttered, “This way,” and began stumbling towards the academy. The strange trio ambled along slowly, gaining strange looks from passing pedestrians. He felt sort of far away. The stump of his arm was burning, and the ground was sharp soles of his feet, but he could barely feel it. He supposed that it would hurt a lot more when he didn’t have morphine in his blood. He should have brought the IV with him.

“Klaus! Where have you-... oh my god. Klaus?”

Klaus froze, the girls pausing with him. “What’s wrong?” said Eva.

Ben stood in front of him. His jaw was slack, eyes uncomprehending. Klaus thought that if ghosts could faint, Ben would be passing out right around now. 

“Klaus… your arm,” Ben said, voice wobbling.

Klaus closed his eyes. He couldn’t- He couldn’t deal with this. Not right now. Eyes squeezed tight, he started forward, shivering at the hair-raising sensation as he passed through Ben. 

“Please, just talk to me,” begged Ben, circling, walking backward to keep his eyes on Klaus. “What happened?”

Klaus shook his head like a wet dog, nausea rising up. He didn’t want to talk about it. Why did Ben always want him to talk about it?

“Klaus! Please-”

“Shut up!” cried Klaus. He reached up to cover his ears, but only one hand made it there. It didn’t matter too much; sound from his left ear was fuzzy and indistinct. He should have asked the nurse if that was going to be permanent. 

Bree and Eva traded perturbed looks. “Klaus?”

“Sorry, sorry, sorry,” whimpered Klaus, brushing away the tears threatening to escape. “Let’s keep going.”

Eva nodded, and began moving again, ignoring Bree’s worried gaze. 

“Actually,” he said, “It isn’t far now. I can- I’ll be okay.”

“Nope. We’re taking you to your door,” said Eva breezily, not breaking stride.

Ben stuck close after that, but he kept his jaw closed tight, wordless. Klaus refused to look.

By the time they reached the mansion, Klaus legs had begun to shake violently with each step, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten since before they headed to the front. The morphine was waning, and fierce stabs of pain were radiating from his arm, bringing beads of sweat to his brow. He all but fell into the front door, breathing a sigh of relief. 

“You gonna be okay from here?” asked Bree.

“Oh, sure,” said Klaus airily. “I’ll be fine.”

Ava chewed her lip. “Alright. Bye then.”

“Thanks,” said Klaus quietly,

Bree said, “Take care of yourself, dude.” Her gaze was intense.

Klaus gave a sloppy salute, the kind that his C.O. would have raged at. “Always do,” he said, pushing open the door to the academy and ducking inside.

Klaus was seeing his childhood home through new eyes. After ten months of jungle and dirt and occasional Vietnamese discos, the decor seemed more stuffy than ever. The silence was heavy, and the sight of the place felt stifling. He had never been more aware that, growing up, they had never been a true family. The guys he had left behind in the 60’s had been more family than the strangers who had occupied these halls. He felt a pang of regret at leaving them behind, all to chase a sense of home that wasn’t here. Without Dave, nowhere would be home to Klaus.

He staggered along the corridors, waiting for one of his siblings to bump into him, but the only person around was Ben, following him with a heavy stare. Klaus managed to get all the way to his bedroom without running into anyone. He considered taking a bath, but the thought of trying to keep his bandaged arm dry seemed more effort than it was worth. Instead, he shed the papery hospital gown, and traded it for boxers and a loose t shirt, stolen from an ex whose name he couldn’t recall. The material was soft and clean, and something about the way it smelled made his chest hurt.

He crawled into bed with tired, clumsy limbs, and tucked his sheets up so that the bandages were covered. Like this, he could almost imagine that it had never happened, that the pain and exhaustion was the result of a wild night and too many pills. 

He closed his eyes, and wished sleep to take him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, i crave validation, so pls comment and let me know what u think


	3. Shadow In The City

For a long time, Klaus floated between sleep and wakefulness. He was tired down to his bones, but the piercing pain of his arm prevented him from getting any true sleep. It wouldn’t be long until withdrawal set in. He knew that he had some pills hidden in his stuffed unicorn, maybe some weed in his sock drawer, but he figured that they probably had some morphine in the infirmary that would do a better job. He would go and get some, he thought, when he found the energy to do anything more than breathe. 

Ben tried talking to him a few times, but eventually left when Klaus refused to respond. He wasn’t sure whether he felt guilty or relieved. Maybe both.

Klaus twitched when the sound of gunshots echoed in his skull. He told himself that it wasn’t real, but that didn’t stop the cacophony of helicopter blades and screaming voice from getting louder. 

Loud enough that he didn’t hear his name being called the first time.

“ _ Klaus!” _

“Hm?” murmured Klaus, rolling his head to the side to see where Five was stood in the doorway.

“Are you serious right now?” bit out Five.

“What?”

Five folded his arms. “The end of the world, and your spending it- what? In bed, hungover?”

“Something like that,” breathed Klaus.

“Of course,” snorted Five, stomping away.

Klaus looked back to the ceiling. He felt hot tears run down the sides of his face, soaking the hair at his temples. More than ever, he wasn’t sure why he had come back here, to a family who hated him. He thought about Brooks and Alviso and Red, and all the other guys he had left back there, and wondered how many of them were still alive, how many of them had come back to America in a body bag. He didn’t think he wanted to know.

He slept fitfully for an hour or so, and woke with a gasp and the memory of Dave’s blood on his hands, but there was no blood and only one hand left now. He felt disjointed, lost. Pain made his stomach twist and muscles clench. 

He contemplated getting up and searching out some painkillers, but his head span at even the thought of walking so far. He whimpered. 

Just as he was getting desperate enough to go looking, he heard footsteps coming down the hall, a familiar rhythm. He wet his lips. “Diego?” he croaked.

The footsteps paused, and then changed course. Diego ducked into the room, all in black and his favourite throwing knives on his harness. He had a keyed up kind of energy, movements frenetic. “Klaus? Where the hell have you been?”

“Here and there, there and here” said Klaus. “Listen, could you ask mom if we have any good painkillers?”

A complex expression crossed Diego’s face, pain and guilt, before settling on rage. “Are you serious? You want to make mom your dealer?”

Klaus rolled to face his brother, the movement slow and aching. “Can you please just go get her?”

Diego’s jaw twitched. “No.”

“I’m in pain,” Klaus whined.

“That’s called  _ withdrawal,”  _ snarled Diego, arms folded. “Maybe you can actually get clean for once.”

Klaus didn’t bother to correct him. “Why would I want to do that?”

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe the fucking apocalypse?”

Klaus breathed out a sigh. His world had already ended. What was one more apocalypse? “I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“Maybe you can try not being so selfish for once, huh? Maybe you can actually help us try to stop this thing?” 

“Fuck you. You’ll only make me lookout anyway,” sniped Klaus, burying his face into his pillow. It was still damp from his tears.

“No, dipshit. I mean maybe your powers can help,” snapped Diego. “Maybe you can do your talking to ghosts thing, maybe one of them knows something about how the world ends.”

Klaus went still. He felt like he had just been struck by lightning, his nerves singing, skin electrified. How could he have been so stupid? He had spent so long running from his powers, seeing them as a curse, that he hadn’t even thought about it.

“Oh my god,” Klaus breathed. “Oh my god, you’re right.”

Diego leaned back, stunned. “What?”

“You’re right, I can- I can see him again,” said Klaus. His eyes were feverish and manic. He dug the heels of his feet into his mattress and pushed himself up the bed, using his good arm to push himself upright. Blood rushed in his ears, and black spots appeared in his vision, but it didn’t stop him from flinging his legs over the edge of the bed and attempting to stand.

In his haze of urgency, he didn’t notice the way that Diego half stumbled, face bloodless. His lips formed a word -  _ Klaus -  _ but no sound escaped. 

“I should- I should clean out my stash now, before withdrawal kicks in fully,” Klaus muttered, fumbling with his stuffed unicorn, trying to open it and fish out the baggie of pills one handed. He ended up using his teeth. He moved to his sock drawer and began digging around.

“Klaus?”

“Mhm?” mumbled Klaus distractedly. He pulled out a bag of weed, and dumped it next to the pills on his bed.

“Klaus,” Diego said brokenly.

Realisation hit Klaus. He span, wobbling, and glanced between the stump of his arm and his brother.

“Um.”

“W-What-... Klaus,” stammered Diego.

Klaus swallowed. “It’s a long, rather tragic story that I’d rather not-”

Diego stepped close, sudden, and Klaus flinched slightly. Diego lifted a hand and gripped Klaus by the shoulder tightly, as if checking he was real. Klaus tore himself away, the contact overwhelming to the point of pain, despite the way he craved it. He palmed angrily at his eyes, which were damp and teary again. 

“Klaus.Talk to me.”

“Not- not right now. Just- can we just clear out my stash first? Please?”

Diego worried his lip. “I’m calling a family meeting.”

“What?” cried Klaus.

“Klaus, you can’t just avoid this! Your arm-” Diego said, losing steam when he looked down at the stump.

“Yes, I’m  _ aware,”  _ said Klaus. His vision faded for a moment, and he wavered on the spot. Diego stepped forward, arms out ready to catch, but Klaus swiped at him irritably. “I’m fine.”

“You’re- Klaus, I’m not sure it’s safe to even go into withdrawal right now.”

Klaus said, “Quit being so dramatic. Ask mom, she’ll back me up!”

Diego’s face twisted, and he turned away.

Klaus blinked. “Di?” he said softly.

“Mom’s d-d-dead, Klaus.”

Klaus choked on air, stumbling back until the bed hit the back of his calves. He sat heavily. “Fuck.” He ducked his head between his knees until he didn’t feel like he was about to pass out. “When? How?”

“When those masked freaks broke in,” said Diego.

Klaus absently said, “Hazel and Cha-Cha.”

“What?”

Klaus heaved a sigh. “I’ll tell you at the family meeting.”

Diego nodded. “I’ll go let everyone know to meet here. You just- get some rest, okay? Get some sleep. You look like shit.”

Klaus snorted. “Sure thing, bro.”

Klaus allowed himself to drop back against the mattress, and tried not to imagine Grace’s still body lying next to Dave’s. 

  
  



	4. Leave Me Where I Lie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: all the chapter titles are from whatever song i'm listening to when i finish writing the chapter. (people who can write without music are strange and cannot be trusted)

Diego came back some time later to shepherd him downstairs.

"Allison was at Vanya's," said Diego, "so they're driving over now. Five and Luther are waiting downstairs for us."

"Excellent," said Klaus, weaving from side to side as he navigated the hallway. Eventually Diego put a guiding arm around him.

"You need to eat something. Drink some water," said Ben.

Klaus made a dismissive sound, a reflex from years of ignoring Ben’s good advice. Diego turned to eye him for a second, but didn’t comment.

At the top of the stairs, Grace was sat, face lax and lifeless. Pogo was crouched over her, a toolbox by his feet, long hands delving inside of her to fiddle with her wires.

Klaus had seen more dead people than most morticians, but the sight of their pseudo-mother hit him with a pain so hard that he felt like he might be washed away with it. He had never been sure whether Grace was really  _ alive _ \- she had fetched him, smiling, for his father’s torture/training sessions too many times to feel secure in her love for them - but in that moment, he could see that she was dead in a way that she had never been before. Even when she was still, sat charging in front of her paintings, there had been a sense of potential; Klaus was safe in the knowledge that he could tug at her skirt and she would wake.

Klaus was now the orphan that he had always wished himself to be. 

By the time they reached the bottom of the stairs, Klaus could hear a steady stream of bickering coming from the parlour. Five’s higher voice mixed with Luther’s low tones. Klaus wondered if he was the cause. 

The arguing was cut short when Klaus was shuffled into the room. 

“Klaus?” said Five numbly. He had gone slack, hands limp at his sides, lips parting to drag in an unsteady breath. 

Luther blinked, eyebrows furrowed, as if waiting for the rest of Klaus’ arm to materialise. 

Klaus wheezed a laugh, a thin, reedy sound, just on this side of hysterical. “Surprise!” he said, almost knocking himself off balance with a one handed jazz hands. 

“Jesus, Klaus,” said Luther tightly, “what the hell did you do?”

Klaus drew himself upright. “What did _I_ do?”

“Typical Luther, already pointing fingers,” said Diego. Then, wincing, he added, “Pun, uh, not intended.”

“Oh, does this mean its been long enough to make amputee jokes?” Klaus asked, all false brightness.

“Can we focus here?” snapped Five. “What happened?”

Klaus sat heavily, waiting for Diego to settle himself next to him, Five perching opposite, elbows on his knees. His brothers watched him intently, and although none of them were exactly soft or compassionate, he could see the concern carved into the lines on their foreheads, the pinch around their eyes. It occurred to him that, if not for losing his arm, he might have made it back from ‘Nam without anyone noticing his absence. The thought left him with a bitter taste in his mouth.

Eyes flickered towards the stump poking out from under his sleeve, gaze never lingering for long, probably in an attempt at tact. It was funny, he thought, how much they cared about his missing limb; his arm was almost inconsequential when compared to the way his heart had been torn from his chest, the wound ragged and bleeding still. And wasn’t that the way it had always been? Since they were kids, they would worry and admonish him over his addictions, but didn’t care about the ghosts and the screaming. Always the symptoms, never the cause.

“Shouldn’t we wait for the girls to get here?” hedged Klaus.

“ _Klaus-”_ said Five and Diego, cutting themselves off when they realised they had spoken in sync.

“Fine, fine, fine,” said Klaus. “Remember when those psychos shot up the house, looking for Five? When they couldn’t find him, they took me instead.” His hand was shaking, and he wasn’t sure if it was the withdrawal or the memories. He balled it into a fist.

Five made a quiet noise, glancing away for a moment.

“They tortured me,” Klaus said, matter of fact, “for hours. They wanted information.”

“And they cut off your arm?” asked Luther faintly.

“What? No, no. Nothing that bad, just a bit of waterboarding, some light stabbing. Then, some police officer lady found me, untied me-” Klaus turned suddenly to where Diego sat, looking ashy and wounded. “She knew you. Did she..?”

Diego swallowed. “She didn’t make it.”

“Oh,” said Klaus, closing his eyes for a moment. 

“So you escaped?” asked Five.

Klaus nodded. “Through a vent. But there was this briefcase in the way, so I pushed it ahead of me, ended up taking it with me.”

Five jolted, as if electrified. “You did it, didn’t you? You time travelled?”

_“What?”_ said Luther.

Ben muttered, “Holy shit.”

Klaus mouth was dry. “Vietnam, 1968.”

“I suppose that explains the arm,” Five commented drily. “How long were you there?”

“Almost a year.”

_“A year?”_ exclaimed Diego, shifting onto his feet. “Why the hell did you stay?”

Klaus chewed the inside of his cheek. Part of him wanted to keep Dave to himself, didn’t want Dave to be tainted by his family. Still, he knew that his story would have wide gaps without him. “I fell in love.”

In his usual manner, Five went straight for the practical question. “Where is it? The briefcase, where is it?”

“Uh… in my room?” 

Five blinked out, returning a second later with the briefcase in hand. “You see what this means? I can fix this! Go back, stop this week from ever happening.”

Klaus considered this for a moment. Then, “No.”

Five frowned. “What do you mean, no?”

“I said _no,”_ repeated Klaus.

“But- this way you would never go to Vietnam, never lose your arm,” said Luther innocently, uncomprehending.

“Yes, I understand that.”

“So let me get this straight,” said Diego, “You don’t want to get your arm back?”

“If this week didn’t happen, and I never went to ‘Nam, I- I wouldn’t have met Dave,” said Klaus.

“But you wouldn’t know that. That timeline would be overwritten,” explained Five with barely concealed impatience.

“But I do know it, and I don’t want to forget him,” said Klaus, standing to face his smaller brother.

Five’s nostrils flared. “Well, considering the apocalypse is in four days and I still don’t know how to stop it, you don’t have much of a choice.”

Klaus stood there, and felt so hollow that he might just float away. His body didn’t feel like his own. The loss of weight on his left had caused a persistent tilt, his balance off, trying to compensate, and under his clothes his skin was scarred and tattooed and tanned and calloused. This was not the body that belonged in this mansion, this dusty museum where nothing changed. He wanted to say, _tell me why. Tell me what I did to deserve this. First he’s taken away from me, and now you want to take away my memories of him too? Why?_

What he said was, “I won’t let you.”

The tension in the room racketed upward, Luther stepping closer to Five, Diego edging in between them and Klaus.

Five looked unconcerned. “I don’t think that will work out for you,” he said. “For what it’s worth, I am sorry.”

“Fuck you,” spat Klaus, suddenly more angry than he can remember being. His blood was on fire with it, the need to make someone else hurt as badly as he did. “Fuck you, Five, you don’t know! You don’t know!”

“Klaus, don’t make this harder than it has to be,” said Luther. “If that’s the only way to be sure that the apocalypse-”

“Shut up, Luther!” said Klaus.

“Hey, hey,” said Diego, watching Klaus like some wild thing. “Let’s just cool it, okay?”

“What, you’re on his side now?” said Klaus, stabbing a finger towards Luther.

“This isn’t about _sides_ ,” said Diego.

“Oh, really? Because the way I see it, either you want Five to change this week, or you don’t!”

Diego spoke slowly, the way he did when he was clamping down on his temper. “Klaus, let’s just talk about this _calmly_ , okay?”

“I’m perfectly fucking calm!”

“Jesus,” muttered Five, “We don’t have time for this.”

Klaus laughed lowly. “We have nothing but time,” he said, gesturing at the briefcase.

“Come on, Klaus,” said Ben. “Just try and talk, find a solution, yeah?”

“Okay, let’s _talk,”_ Klaus said with a shit eating grin. “Because I’ve got a few things I’d like to say about this family-”

A small, shocked voice came from behind him, barely audible over the ringing of his left ear.

“Klaus?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y'all: please can someone give klaus a hug  
> me: hahahahahha no.
> 
> as always, comments are my lifeblood


	5. Eyes Won't Let Me Hide

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone who's been commenting, y'all have been hella motivating, so here's another chapter!

“Klaus?”

He span to look to the entrance. 

His sisters were stood paralysed, twin statues, grey faced. Vanya had come to such a sudden stop that Allison had ran into her, and then stood still behind her smaller sister, one hand on her shoulder; it was unclear whether she was trying to steady Vanya, or herself.

“Hi,” said Klaus quietly. He felt small, vulnerable, standing in front of his sisters in only boxers and an oversized t-shirt. With his hand, he reached out and clutched Dave’s dog tags like a rosary. 

As if coming unstuck, Allison shook her head, a jerking motion. “Klaus? What-”

Five made an irritated noise, and set the briefcase on the coffee table, reaching for the latches.

“No!” yelped Klaus, swiping it from the coffee table and holding it tightly against his chest. 

Five growled, “Give that back.”

“No,” said Klaus stubbornly.

“What’s happening?” said Vanya.

“You  _ idiot,” _ said Five, lip curling. “I’m trying to help you!”

“I don’t want your help! Why can’t you just listen to me?”

“Because the goddamn apocalypse is coming! What exactly do you not understand about that?”

“ _ Guys,”  _ said Vanya, frustration rising in her voice.

“So find another way! You keep telling us how much smarter you are than the rest of us, so figure it out!” 

Five said, “I don’t have enough time.”

“Five!” said Vanya.

“I don’t care! I don’t care, okay?” said Klaus.

“Fine,” said Five. In a flash of blue, he vanished, reappearing by Klaus, grabbing the suitcase and attempting to wrench it away. Five had two hands, but Klaus was bigger, muscles toned from ten months in the jungle.

“Stop!” cried Vanya.

“Let go,” grunted Klaus, struggling to keep his grip on the handle, sweaty palm slipping.

“You let go!” said Five, short nails digging into the leather as he gripped it tight.

_ “STOP!” _

The briefcase flew from their hands and impacted into a nearby pillar with enough force to make the plaster crack. It shuddered, pinned, handle rattling against the body of it, and then-

**_Boom._ **

The briefcase exploded, flames flaring out, hot fingers reaching up to the ceiling and scorching the paint. Klaus reeled back, his mind a haze of white panic, because between the flames and the noise, he could almost be back there, back with Dave, in the mud and the hail of bullets, pressing low to the ground and wishing he could sink through it because bullets were impacting the dirt around him and any moment could be the end, could leave him bleeding out like Dave, Dave, Dave-

“Klaus?”

He came back to himself slowly. He was low to the ground, forehead pressed against the unforgiving floor. He clapped his hand over his mouth to stop the awful keening sound that was escaping.

“I got you, man,” said Diego, holding him tightly and attempting to pull him to his feet. When Klaus’ legs shook and refused to hold his weight, he allowed the two of them to drop back to the floor, positioning them so that Klaus could sit leaning against his brother. 

“What was that?” asked Luther. Klaus got the feeling that he wasn’t talking about the flashback.

“Vanya,” said Five, “I think… you did that. I think you have powers.”

“What?” said Vanya, eyes darting from Five, to Klaus, to the charred remains of the briefcase scattered on the floor. “No. I can’t- I don’t have powers.”

“But it was you,” said Five, shaking off the shock, tone turning analytic. “When you yelled. Have you been doing anything different recently? Has anything changed in your life?”

“No, nothing. I- well,” stammered Vanya. “I stopped taking my meds? But-”

“Your meds. How long have you been taking those?”

Vanya frowned. “I don’t know, since I was really little.”

“This is crazy,” said Luther, “we would remember if Vanya has powers.”

A sharp gasp came from Allison. The woman was hunched slightly, hands knotted over her stomach, as if physically pained. “Oh my god,” she breathed, “Oh my god, Vanya.”

“Allison?” said Klaus, voice shaky.

“I didn’t- I didn’t know, I didn’t realise,” she babbled, “he made me, and we were so young, I didn’t know what it meant, it was only just now that I remembered-”

Vanya said, “Allison, what are you talking about?”

Allison blinked fast, eyes damp. “When we were- four, maybe? Dad said you were sick, that you had to be quarantined.”

“I remember,” Five mumbled distantly.

“Then one day, he took me to… a basement? I don’t know. And he told me to…”

“Oh. Oh, god,” said Vanya.

“He told me to rumour you,” said Allison, voice thick with tears. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, he told me to-”

“What was the rumour, exactly?” demanded Five.

Allison shut her eyes, a look of pain on her face. “That you were  _ just ordinary.” _

“Christ,” muttered Klaus.

“You- you made me think-” Vanya shuddered, and the earth began to tremble under their feet. “No. This can’t…”

“Vanya,” said Five, cautious.

Vanya took a visible breath, pulling her shoulders back, before releasing it in a slow exhale. The shaking settled.

“Vanya, I am so,  _ so sorry,”  _ said Allison.

“Okay,” she said, “This is- a lot. I- I can’t, right now. Just… we’ll talk about it, but not right now. Later, okay?”

“Whatever you want,” nodded Allison.

“First, Klaus. Your arm… what happened?”

Klaus blinked as several heads swivelled his way. “Uh- nothing too important. Don’t you want to- I mean, you have powers, Vanya! Really badass powers!”

Vanya gave a self-conscious shrug. “I’ve gotten by for the last twenty-nine years without them. We came here because Diego said you needed us.”

Klaus swallowed. “Sorry, I didn’t- you didn’t have to come.”

“Of course we would come. You’re our brother,” said Allison.

“That’s funny, because I was your brother all those times I ended up in hospital, but you never came then,” Klaus said bitterly. “I mean, not that I can blame you - the whole overdose thing gets old, I know.”

“No, you’re right,” said Vanya, more boldly than she would usually speak. She shared a glance with Allison and said, “Turns out, we kind of suck at being sisters.”

Allison’s lips quirked into a half-smile. “It’s something we’re working on.”

“Wait, wait,” said Five, youthful face lined in thought, “Vanya- why did you go off of your pills?”

Vanya sighed. “Five, can’t we just-”

“Just- I need to know. Please,” said Five.

Vanya paused at his  _ please.  _ Five wasn’t known for being polite. “Fine. I guess I forgot to fill my prescription, and I couldn’t find my spare bottle.”

Five nodded slowly. “I’ve got a lot of new data to... I need to run some equations, but Vanya, don’t leave without talking to me, okay?”

“Why?”

“Just… trust me?”

Vanya gave him a considering look. “Yeah, okay. Promise.”

Five nodded, and disappeared in a flash of blue.

“Well, that was strange,” said Luther. 

Vanya shook her head, and went to sit next to Klaus on the floor. “What happened to you, Klaus?” she asked, voice soft and compassionate, and Klaus was reminded of when they were kids and would cry when she stepped on an ant.

He licked his lips. “I’ve just told these guys, could you just ask them about it? I don’t… I don’t want to talk about it again.” His eyes were prickling at the thought of tearing himself open again for this new audience. 

“Of course,” said Allison, who had crouched down to stroke a hand over his hair, every inch the mother she was.

“Just tell us what you need,” Vanya said simply.

To his frustration, a tear spilled over in the face of this kindness. “I’m tired, Van.”

“Want us to take you up to bed?” asked Vanya.

Klaus nodded, wiping away his tears with his knuckles.

“Do you need me to, uh-” Luther offered awkwardly. 

Klaus smiled weakly. “Nah, big guy, I can walk. I lost an arm, not a leg.”

“Right.”

“Come on, bro,” said Diego, taking Klaus’ hand and heaving him upright.

Klaus stood, swaying, as black splotches bled into his vision. The ringing of his left ear seemed to have spread, and his head felt like it might float right off his shoulders.

“Um, I think-” said Klaus, not getting any further before his eyes rolled back, and he slumped back down to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> if the timeline isn't clear: Allison was bringing over coffee when Vanya got Diego's call, meaning that she hasn't auditioned for 1st chair or gotten into a fight with Allison over Leonard yet!


	6. Constant In The Darkness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> plot? never heard of her

Klaus opened his eyes to the gentle smile of his mother. He blinked up at her with heavy eyelids, trying to bring her into focus. His thoughts were slow and thick like molasses in summer, and he found himself stuck on  _ you’re dead, I saw you, you’re dead.  _ Did this mean that she really was a person, with a soul, like Diego always said? He thought,  _ I guess androids really do dream of electric sheep.  _ Ben would find that funny, but as he rolled his eyes over the room, he found only Mom and Diego and Vanya there. 

He looked to Diego and said, “It’s mom,” but the words came out slurred and unintelligible. His tongue felt massive in his mouth, and his lips were fuzzy and half numb.

Then Grace reached out to brush an errant curl from his face, and she actually made contact, synthetic skin cool and dry, and Klaus flinched back and whined because that wasn’t possible, was it? 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” said Vanya, “you’re okay. You’re in the infirmary.”

“Mom,” said Klaus, still scared and panicked.

“Pogo fixed her up,” said Diego roughly.

“Good as new,” trilled Grace, smiling widely.

Oh. Klaus smiled back. “Good. That’s good.”

“And I’ll have you back on your feet in no time,” said Grace. “You were severely dehydrated. You need to take better care of yourself, silly!”

“Sorry, mom,” said Klaus, eyes skating over the the IV in the crook of his elbow, up to a bag of saline and-

And-

“No, no, no, no,” babbled Klaus, distress bubbling up.

“Klaus?” said Vanya.

“No, no, please, no,” said Klaus. He reached towards his elbow with a numb, uncooperative limb, only to realise it wasn’t  _ numb _ , it was just  _ gone,  _ nothing there from just below the elbow, so then he brought his good arm up to his face and tried to grab the needle with his teeth, desperate to get it out, get it out-

“Klaus, stop!” yelled Diego, pushing him back against the infirmary cot. Klaus thrashed, feeling trapped and scared and no one was  _ listening to him.  _

“Get it out, get it out, I don’t want it,” he begged, choking on a sob.

“What- Klaus, what’s wrong?” said Vanya, pale and worried.

“I don’t want it, I don’t want it!” he cried, voice rising until he was shrieking, “Please, I don’t want it!”

“The painkillers,” said Diego lowly, “He wanted to get clean.”

“Please,” said Klaus, focusing in on Diego now, “please, take it out, please! Please, Diego, I don’t- I don’t-, please just take it out, I don’t want it, please-”

“Klaus, Klaus, listen to me,” said Diego, gaze intent and sad, “You can’t come off it, mom says you’re too weak to go through withdrawal right now. It could be dangerous.”

“I don’t care,” said Klaus, “I don’t care, just get it out, I don’t care.” he writhed out of Diego’s grasp, only to be pushed back down, one hand on his shoulder and another on his wrist.

“If you went into withdrawal right now, it could kill you,” said Diego. “You hear me? You could die.”

“I don’t  _ care,  _ I don’t care, please, Diego, please,” said Klaus, tears spilling freely.

The ground began to tremble, medical instruments clattering in their trays, and Vanya choked out, “I have to- I should go, sorry, I have to go,” before fleeing.

“I’m sorry sweetheart,” interjected Grace, “It’s just for now, okay?”

And that was his undoing, hearing someone call him  _ sweetheart, _ but not the  _ right _ person, not Dave, because Dave would never call him sweetheart again. All the fight left him, and he wilted under his brothers hands, legs pulling up as he curled into himself, body wracked with sobs that seemed too big for him. “No, no, no,” he said, although he wasn’t sure what he was denying anymore, except that he didn’t want it, didn’t want any of it.

“Oh, Klaus,” breathed Grace, and then, upon some vestigial instinct, he reached out for her, wanting to be soothed like a child, wanting someone bigger and more capable than him to step in and fix the unfixable for him. Without hesitation, she swept him into her arms, rocking him gently as she cooed, “That’s it, it’s all okay now, it’s all okay.”

Klaus buried his face in the stiff material of her dress, probably staining it with tears and snot, as he gave voice to the awful ache in his chest, whining and choking on it, gasping around it. “Mom,” he said, “It hurts. It hurts.”

Grace was silent for a moment, before squeezing him tighter, almost too tight. “I know,” she said. “I know. I’ve got you. Just let it out, okay? I’ve got you.”

He cried himself out like that, shoulders hitching, his one hand clenched tight in the folds of her skirt. Just when he started to think it would never end, his cries began to wind down, breath coming easier, until he went limp, wrung out.

“There you go,” said Grace, easing him back onto the cot with firm hands. “See if you can get some sleep, okay?”

He slumped down, loose and exhausted from crying so hard. Grace stroked a thumb over his cheek, before saying that she would go start dinner, the sound of her heels clicking away a familiar tattoo. Klaus allowed his eyes to close. His head would probably be aching without the painkillers, but as it was, it just felt heavy and swollen. 

Lying there, he felt like he had been carved open, scooped out. All those empty places that Klaus had filled with  _ Dave, Dave, Dave  _ were empty once again, and he was left feeling hollow, an empty shell, an abandoned home. Now, after allowing himself to sob out his pain, he felt more empty than ever. 

In the quiet, the beep of his heart rate monitor made itself known. The rhythmic beep seemed to be mocking Klaus, a constant reminder of his own damned survival. As much as dying in war was tragic, it seemed to Klaus that living through it was just cruel. 

For a long time, Klaus had felt that he had in some way cheated death. He had never much believed in determinism, and yet he had a persistent feeling that he wasn’t  _ supposed _ to be alive. It wasn’t that he  _ wanted _ to die, per se, but he somehow felt that he had outstayed his welcome. If there was such thing as it being someone’s time, then Klaus’ time had come and gone. Even before this theory had any credence, before the overdoses and the goddamn Vietnam War, before he had balanced on the edge of mortality and dared himself to peak over the edge, he had known it. His life was some sort of error. 

He often wondered, if so, when he was supposed to have died? When he had taken that coke that was cut with something bad? When he had walked into that bank robbery, armed with nothing more than his wit and a knowledge of the best way to break someone’s leg? When he was born, squirming and covered in blood, despite the impossibility of his conception?

Klaus hoped that someone looked down and laughed at it all, saw some meaning in the joke that was his life. If there was a god, they certainly had a sick sense of humour.

Why else would he have to travel halfway around the world and fifty years into the past to find someone who looked at him and saw something worth loving?

The screech of a chair being pushed back interrupted Klaus’ melancholy. He opened his eyes to see his brother start towards the door.

“Wait,” Klaus blurted. 

Diego turned, eyebrows raised. “Yeah?”

Klaus hesitated a moment, avoiding eye contact, before saying, “Stay? Just… until I fall asleep?”

Diego squinted at him. He suddenly reminded Klaus of the boy he had once been, unsure and awkward and stuttering. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, okay.”

Diego took a seat at Klaus bedside and, after a moment, took Klaus’ hand in his. 

His palm proclaimed,  _ hello. _   
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always, comments are fuel
> 
> if youd like to yell at me on tumblr, im siriuspiggyback


	7. Half The Man I Used To Be

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello my loves! I finally figured out how i wanted to end this, so this is the penultimate chapter

When Klaus awoke, Diego was still there, as promised. He had fallen asleep sitting up, arms crossed, head tilted forward at an improbable angle. Klaus poked his brother with his toes. “Hey,” he said.

Diego woke fast, but not startled - he was simply asleep one second and awake the next. He had always been a light sleeper. “Hey, bro. How are you feeling?”

Klaus thought about it for a moment. “A little better,” he said, with more honesty than he normally afforded his siblings. 

“Mom took your IV out about half an hour ago, said as long as you make sure to eat and drink, you should be fine. Changed your bandages too.”

“Great,” said Klaus, pushing himself upright. He felt surprisingly steady. He ran a hand through his hair, and grimaced. “I need a bath.”

“Yeah, you do.”

“Hey!” cried Klaus, taking a swipe at his brother, who dodged easily.

“Come on, I’ll help you,” said Diego.

“I don’t need help, I’m a goddamn war vet,” grumbled Klaus, allowing Diego to steer him out of the room.

“Sure, you going to tie a plastic bag over your own bandages?”

Klaus considered this. “Fine. But I want a bubble bath, okay? And I’m gonna take my sweet time in there.”

“Deal.”

  
  


Klaus was still slightly damp from his bath, pulling on some (borrowed) joggers, when he heard the gunshots again. He whimpered quietly. His bath had been interrupted by the whirl of chopper blades and the screams of dying men, and it seemed to have followed him out. But then Ben was in front of him, eyes wide, saying “Klaus! Something’s happening!”

For a moment, he had a strange, out of body feeling, the deja vu making his head spin. He was here, but he was also there, three days ago or ten months ago. He was caught in some sort of reprisal.

This time, though, he wasn’t wearing just a towel and headphones, ignorant to the world. This time, he was strong and alert, and sure, he might be missing an arm, but he was a soldier. If he had managed to shoot straight in the heat of the jungle, with shrapnel buried in his shoulder blade, dizzy from the proximity of the grenade that had killed Private Miller, then he could fight now. 

It was with practised, silent steps that he made his way from the bedrooms, down to the sitting room. 

The gunshots rang louder here, and mixed in, the grunts of his siblings and the familiar  _ thwip  _ of Five jumping through space. He took cover behind the door, and quickly took stock of the situation. There were multiple assailants, all in matching gear, faces masked and eyes gleaming red. His siblings were fighting, but they were unarmed - several bodies were sporting Diego’s knives already - wildly outnumbered and pinned down behind some overturned furniture. Five was killing at a brutal rate, but he could only be in one place at one time. From the way the glasses were rattling over by the bar, he could only assume that Vanya had hidden behind it.

Without allowing himself time to overthink, he rolled, grabbing a gun from a felled soldier and ducking behind a pillar. He checked his ammo on autopilot, testing the weight of the weapon in his hand. It wasn’t ideal, shooting one-handed, but he had done it before, sometimes whilst dragging an injured comrade behind him, and his aim would hold true now.

He span out and shot with precision, men falling with pained cries which would haunt Klaus later. He heard Allison say his name, voice shocked, but he didn’t allow it to distract him. He kept firing until they clocked onto his position, and twisted back behind cover. He waited until the click of empty chambers echoed -  _ amateurs -  _ before darting out around the other side of the pillar, taking out three before they were firing back. A bullet came so close that he could swear he felt the heat of it, and he hastily took cover with a curse.

He checked the chamber. Only four bullets left, not enough for the amount of soldiers still standing. His mind whirled. He wished his platoon were here with him. He needed back up, needed a distraction-

_ Thwip. _

Five was crouched next to him, small body pulled tight to stay out of the path of the bullets that were still flying. “I’m going to get their attention on me, be ready to fire,” he hissed.

Klaus nodded sharply. “Got it.”

A flash of blue, and then, “Hey, assholes!”

With a hysterical little laugh tucked behind his teeth, Klaus stepped out from behind the column. He had to make every shot count.

One. The soldier who was climbing over the bar.

Two. The guy trying to shoot through the table his siblings were hidden behind. 

Three. The soldier attempting to sneak up behind Five.

Four. With a careful shot, he downed two of the guys spinning to face him, the bullet going through the first’s throat and lodging into the second’s chest.

Assuming Five would take the guy closest to him, Klaus lunged at the last survivor. He knocked the barrel of the gun away with the back of his hand, ignoring the burning heat against his skin, and kneed him in the gut. The soldier doubled over, and Klaus took the opportunity to disarm him, tossing the gun into the air and snatching it back so that it was facing its owner. 

He pulled the trigger. Hot blood splattered his face.

Silence.

“Holy shit,” breathed Diego. 

“Everyone okay?” said Luther, taking charge of the situation. 

“Yeah,” said Diego.

Allison replied, “You got shot!”

“It’s just a graze,” denied Diego, one hand clamped over his arm.

“Five? Klaus?”

“I’m fine,” stated Five.

Klaus made a vague sound of confirmation, focused on the bar, where the bottles continued to shake. “Vanya?” he called out softly, approaching the bar slowly. “You good?”

A beat, and then Vanya popped up, wide dark eyes contrasting against her pale face. “Are they- are they dead?”

Klaus swallowed. “Van. Take a breath, yeah? In and out.”

She looked around her, as if taking notice for the first time. She took a slow breath, shoulders drawing back, and her powers settled. “Sorry. I’m okay, I’ve got it.”

“I know you do,” replied Klaus with a cheeky grin. He looked almost like the old Klaus for a moment, if you could ignore the absence of his arm, the new tattoos, the slightly fragile look in his eyes.

“You’re a good shot,” commented Five, wandering around the bodies as if searching for something.

Klaus shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “Was kind of a do-or-die situation out there. Not much of a choice.”

Five hummed. “It was nice to have someone not totally useless on my side for once.”

“Hey!” said Diego and Luther. They both looked at each other, and then away, uncomfortable.

“Who are these guys, anyway?” said Allison. 

“They’re from the commission - my former employer. They’re trying to stop me from changing the timeline.”

“To stop you from… preventing to apocalypse?” said Vanya.

“Yes,” said Five absently.

“But- we still don’t know what causes the apocalypse,” said Luther.

Five stopped, and frowned around the room at his siblings. “Isn’t it obvious?” When everyone looked back blankly, he hissed, “Vanya’s powers! Obviously!”

Vanya took a shocked breath. “Are you- do you mean, I could-”

Klaus took a quick step between Vanya and the rest of his siblings, not trusting them to keep their cool. “No, no, of course not! Right,  _ Five?”  _ he said, giving Five an imploring look.

Five rolled his eyes. “Not intentionally, of course. I can only assume that in the previous timeline, you discovered your powers in some other, more traumatic way, and lost control.”

“Does this mean Vanya’s still a risk?” said Luther, eyeing his sister warily.

Five glared. “No. The commission wouldn’t have resorted to this unless the apocalypse was no longer in the cards. Now, I just need to make sure they don’t interfere further.” He wandered around the room, rolling over corpses, until he let out a little  _ aha!  _

Five stood, brandishing a familiar looking briefcase. Klaus felt ill looking at it. “I have some unfinished business to take care of. I trust you won’t end the world until I return,” he said sardonically, before flicking open the case. A burst of blue, and he was gone.

The remaining five (six, sorry Ben) stood quietly for a moment, absorbing the strange turn of events. Luther put the table back onto its legs, although it seemed futile, considering the bullet holes in the surface. 

Then, Diego startled. “Shit. Mom!”

He sprinted off towards the back of his house, siblings fast on his tail, before pulling up short by the backdoor. 

Grace smoothed down her skirt, looking remarkably unruffled considering the bodies littered around her. “Hell, darlings. I hope everyone is okay! I was busy taking care of things back here.”

“Um- yeah. We’re- all good,” choked out Diego, eyes wide as he took the destruction.

“I do hope dinner isn’t burnt,” mused Grace.

“Holy shit, mom’s badass,” said Klaus.

“And she did it in heels,” muttered Ben.


	8. A Tree Growing Tall And Green

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay, I lied. this was going to be the last chapter, but i couldn't fit in everything I wanted, so there will be an epilogue after this!

**6 days after Dave // 18265 days after Dave**

Klaus looked at himself in the mirror with critical eyes. He thought he looked okay, all things considered. His face was clean and tan, and his make-up fresh and tasteful. He was wearing the skirt he had stolen from Allison, with an emerald green blouse that she had lent to him willingly. Grace had helped him pin the left sleeve. 

“Ready to go?” asked Luther, hovering awkwardly in the doorway.

“Sure,” said Klaus. “Oh, wait-” he darted back to grab the bouquet that had been standing in a water glass. “Ready.”

They took Allison’s car, Luther taking shotgun whilst Diego, Klaus and Grace squeezed in the back. Klaus dozed slightly on the way, the soft haze of painkillers making him float just slightly. Diego shook him awake gently when they arrived.

His family formed a shield around him as they entered the crowd of people. It was loud, and being around so many smartly dressed people always made Klaus feel small and dirty, but Diego’s steady hand between his shoulder blades gave him something to focus on. 

Their seats were front row. 

There was only one man already sat. He looked up at the gathered Hargreaves with a sly look that put Klaus on edge. Despite his smart suit, he reminded Klaus of some of the shadier people he met on the street. 

“Allison, it’s lovely to see you again!” the man said.

“Leonard,” said Allison, friendly, if not a touch cool. 

“And you must be Vanya’s brothers,” said Leonard. He squinted playfully. “I’m going to guess, Diego, Luther, and uh, Klaus?” he said, nodding at each of the respectively.

“Got it in one,” said Klaus. “Let me guess, you were a fan back in the day?”

A strange look passed over the mans face, quickly replaced with a smile. “No, not really,” he said, before turning to Grace. “I don’t know who you are, though.”

“I’m Vanya’s mother,” said Grace, with enough pride to make Klaus heart swell. Barely more than a week ago, and she wouldn’t have been allowed to leave the house.

“Oh,” said Leonard, eyes wide.

“And who are you?” said Diego, arms folded. Klaus swatted at him until he relaxed.

“Vanya’s boyfriend,” he replied smoothly.

Klaus felt his eyebrows climb into his hairline. He shared a bemused look with Ben.

They shuffled into their seats, and soon the orchestra was out on stage. Klaus searched until he found Vanya, looking pale but gorgeous in her all black suit. He shot her an encouraging grin, which she returned shyly.

The music began, soft and slow, and Klaus prayed that he would keep his eyes open until the end. Classical music had never been his favourite, and the dimmed lights didn’t help. He wished he had skipped his last dose of painkillers, even if mom had insisted on him taking them. 

Then, any thought of sleep was wiped from his brain as Vanya took centre stage. Eyes closed, posture strong, she played with a fierce sort of enthusiasm, and Klaus could of sworn that he could  _ feel _ her joy in the music. It brought to mind those late, hot evenings in a foreign place, and the sound of Dave’s laugh. He found himself smiling, even as tears slipped down his face. 

He couldn’t wait to give Vanya her flowers. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


**27 days after Dave // 18286 days after Dave**

  
  


Klaus shivered despite the sweat collecting on his brow. He felt like death. He hadn’t managed to keep any food down, and if he didn’t manage to keep his liquids up, Grace had threatened to put him on an IV. 

He groaned.

“You’re almost done,” said Ben, half encouraging and half distracted. He hadn’t bothered to look away from his book.

“Almost isn’t the same as done,” said Klaus.

“Who are you talking to?”

Klaus squinted one eye at Diego, who was sharpening his knives nearby in an attempt to seem casual. He was the biggest mother hen sometimes. 

“Ghost,” grunted Klaus.

Diego said, “Must be almost clean, if you’re seeing ghosts again.”

Klaus looked over to Ben, who was giving him a sardonic smile. “Yeah.”

“Here you go,” said Allison, approaching with a steaming mug. “Peppermint tea. It’ll settle your stomach.”

“Thanks,” Klaus sighed, placing it on the coffee table to cool - his hand was shaking hard.

“Feeling any better?” she asked with a sympathetic smile, perching on the arm of the chair.

“Oh, well,” hedged Klaus, “I haven’t thrown up in a couple hours.”

Allison grimaced. “Yay?”

Just then, the door opened, allowing in a cool blast of air. Vanya and Leonard peeked into the room. “Hey, guys. How are you feeling, Klaus?”

But Klaus wasn’t listening, eyes dancing around them. “Wait, wait, one at a time,” he said.

Unseen to the rest of them, Helen Cho huffed impatiently, but allowed the older man to speak first. “He’s not Leonard. The bastard’s name is Harold. I should know, I named him!”

“What?” said Klaus, rubbing at the ache starting at his temple.

“Klaus?” said Vanya.

“He killed me,” said the man.

“And me,” said the woman. “I’m Helen Cho, I was first chair. He killed me so that Vanya could take my seat!”

“Are you sure?” said Klaus dumbly.

“Yes, I’m sure! My body is still in his fucking loft!”

“Well,” said Klaus. He stood, eyes on Leonard/Harold. He cleared his throat. “Vanya… come over here?”

Vanya tilted her head. “What?”

Leonard/Harold laughed awkwardly. “What’s this about?”

Klaus approached slowly, angling himself between the pair with his back to Vanya. “Vanya, I need you to get back.”

“Klaus?” said Diego, standing with a knife in hand.

“I know what you did,” said Klaus warningly.

“I don’t know what your talking about.”

“You’re not Leonard. Your real name is Harold.”

Leonard/Harold laughed unkindly. “You’re crazy.”

“I know you killed your father. I know you killed Helen Cho.”

Vanya gasped sharply. “Leonard- what-”

The man cursed lowly, before grabbing Klaus and twisting him around, a knife at his throat. Klaus hissed out a  _ god damn it.  _ “Ah, ah, ah,” said Leonard/Harold, smiling cruelly at Diego, who had a knife held up, ready to throw. “I’ll slit his throat before I’m dead.”

“I don’t… Leonard, what are you doing?” bleated Vanya. 

“ _ God, _ you can be stupid,” he spat. “I’m trying to prove a point!”

“What point is that, exactly?” said Allison sharply.

“That all of you bastards, all of you people thinking that you’re better than everyone else, better than  _ me -  _ you’re nothing. You’re nothing!”

Klaus winced as the blade bit into the skin of his throat. He could hear the rapid thrum of his heart, and tried to keep still as the adrenaline begged him to  _ move, do something.  _

“Oh my god,” said Vanya. The air around her began to stir, twisting at their clothes, whipping up her hair. “I thought-”

“What? That I loved you?” he sneered. “Poor little Number Seven, the powerless one, except, wait! You get a power too! And yet, powerless little old me tricked  _ all of you.  _ So tell me: who’s really the powerful one here?”

“Okay,” said Diego, “We get it, you’ve made your point.”

“Oh, I don’t think I’m done yet.”

“Fuck you!” yelled Vanya, hands fisted at her sides, and her power reached out and pushed at them. Leonard stumbled slightly, causing the blade to cut deeper, blood trickling down into Klaus’ shirt collar. Vanya’s eyes widened, face horrified despite her brother’s reassuring smile. Her powers drew back inwards, the air lifeless and quiet. 

“So what do you think? Do we show everyone how weak, how  _ useless _ Number Four really is?” taunted Leonard.

Klaus shuddered. Ben looked at him, his fearful expression quickly turning to fury, and he reached out to roughly grab Leonard’s wrist- and-

And-

He pulled, and Leonard’s arm was twisted back with him. 

Klaus dropped, pushing himself away, eyes wide with amazement. “Oh my god,” he breathed. 

Ben returned his gaze, mouth parted in shock, before turning back to a stunned Leonard. He threw his fist, putting all of his frustration at seeing Klaus hurt over and  _ over _ into the motion, and knocked the other man out cold.

The siblings were all silent for a moment before Diego choked out, “Ben?”

  
  
  
  


33 days after Dave // 18292 days after Dave

Five returned on a rainy day at the end of April.

He blinked in halfway through breakfast, Klaus nursing a cup of tea - Allison had gotten him hooked - whilst his siblings chatted, all in various stages of waking. Vanya, who was half asleep in her pancakes, startled so hard that she whacked Luther in the nose. She immediately apologies, mortified, whilst her brother shook her off manfully. It would be more convincing if his eyes weren’t watering.

Five adjusted his tie, a gesture which was undermined by the blood splattered on his shirt. “Hello, everyone. Sorry I’m late - had a few errands to run.”

“Five,” admonished Grace, “At least wash your hands before you sit at the table!”

“Yes, mom,” said Five, scowling at Klaus’ shit eating grin.

“Did you- you know, do whatever you needed to do?” said Luther.

Five nodded, before downing a cup of coffee like a tequila shot. “The commission won’t be a problem. Neither will Hazel or Cha-Cha,” he said. “And I’ve made sure that the police know who was responsible.”

“Good,” said Diego heavily. 

“So, one more thing,” said Five, placing the briefcase on the table in front of Klaus. “This is your last chance. I’m destroying it after this; it’s the last one.”

Klaus eyed the briefcase, taking in the expanse of black leather with a hungry gaze. It could take him back. He could fix things, make sure that Dave never died. He could bring him back to 2019, or stay there in the 60’s with him. They could live out a happy life, just like they planned, with four cats and too many houseplants and a kitchen where Dave could teach Klaus to cook. They could be a family.

But then he looked up at this family. His mother and siblings, all watching him deliberate. If he went back, it would change things. Right? He frowned, trying to make sense of it. If he prevented that terrible firefight, he would never have come back missing half an arm, distraught and bloodied. Would his family still come together, without him to pull them in? Would things still end happy, with Vanya finally feeling included, and Ben finally being acknowledged? 

Was he willing to risk it?

“No,” he said finally. “I think… no. I’m good.”

Five nodded gravely. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

Klaus took another look around his family. “I’m sure.”


	9. Lovers and Friends (I still can recall)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the final chapter, with some reprises of characters from the first couple chapters (if you've been following from the start, you might want to refresh yourself on those)
> 
> chapter title from in my life by the beatles, which is definitely a klaus/dave song
> 
> hope you enjoy!

**47 days after Dave // 18306 days after Dave**

  
  


“Here’s good.”

The car rumbled to a stop. Klaus wiped his palm over his face tiredly. He was still adjusting to being sober. Specifically, to sleeping sober; even with only one good ear, it could get pretty loud. His eyes were itchy and aching and heavy. He pushed open the door, lifted his feet out. 

“Hey. You good?” 

Klaus faced his brother with a half smile. “Yeah. Just tired.”

Diego nodded, still frowning. “Call me if you need a lift home, yeah?”

“Sure thing,” said Klaus with a sloppy salute. He kicked the door closed on a way that he knew Diego would hate. 

He steeled himself before pushing into the bar. The place stunk of booze and cigarettes, and almost everyone in there was double his age. Still, in some strange way, it felt familiar. Like home.

With one long, lingering look at the bar, he ambled over to the walls of photos and medals, fingers skating along them as he searched. His eyes roved over the old, immortalised faces, until he found it. 

The 173rd. 

“Hello,” he murmured, leaning in closer. There, between their fellow soldiers, was Dave and Klaus. He smiled, even as his eyes welled with tears. He pressed a kiss to his fingers, and his fingers to the frame. 

A heavy hand landed on his shoulder. 

“I told you I was okay.”

Diego squeezed his shoulder. “Didn’t look like you should be alone.”

Klaus wiped away his tears and took a shuddering breath. “Thanks.”

Diego said, “That him?”

“Yeah. That’s Dave,” sighed Klaus. 

“Damn, bro. You did good,” teased Diego.

Klaus laughed wetly. “I know. First time I saw him, I swear, I lost the ability to speak.”

“I bet they’ll let you make a copy,” said Diego, lifting the frame from the wall. “Come on.”

Klaus followed Diego to the bar, and carefully avoided looking at the liquor there. He leaned tiredly against the polished wood whilst Diego flagged down the bartender. 

“Klaus? That you?” 

Klaus blinked up at the woman who had just entered the bar. “Oh! Hey, uh…”

She smiled wryly. “Bree.”

“Right, right, sorry.”

“It’s cool,” said Bree, “You seemed pretty messed up when I met you.”

“Oh, uh,” said Klaus, noticing Diego’s heavy stare. “This is my brother, Diego. Diego, this is Bree. She- she helped me get home after…” He gestured at the stump of his arm.

“Nice to meet you,” said Bree.

“Likewise. Thanks for, y’know.”

Bree shrugged nonchalantly. “No problem. Seemed like you could use a hand,” she said with a wicked grin.

Klaus laughed loudly. “Oh man, I like you,” he said. “So, what brings you to this fine establishment?”

“Oh, meeting a friend. Well. It’s part of this war vet’ transition scheme,” she explained. “I just finished my tour a couple months ago.”

“That’s cool,” said Klaus, hoping to end the conversation before it got to the  _ where did you serve  _ portion. 

“Here, come meet him,” said Bree. 

“Oh, I don’t know-”

“Come on, I think you’d like him. Besides… everyone could use someone to talk to, coming home. Y’know?”

Klaus looked at her for a moment before shrugging helplessly. “Sure.”

They followed her over to an older guy, nursing a beer alone. “Hey, man. Got a couple friends for you to meet. This is-”

_ “Holy shit. _ Hargreeves?”

Klaus squinted at the man for a second, and then, “ _ Brooks?” _

“Holy shit. How-”

“You got  _ old.” _

“You didn’t,” said Brooks, laughing dazedly. “God. Everyone went nuts looking for you. How far could one half dead guy get, y’know? Pretty far, apparently.”

“About fifty years far,” said Klaus.

“You two… know each other?” said Bree.

Brooks laughed. “Sure do. Served together.”

“But… what?”

“It’s complicated,” said Klaus. 

“Here,” Diego said, passing her the framed photograph. She frowned down at it, shaking her head. 

“But this is...” 

“It’s really complicated,” said Klaus.

“I always knew there was something strange about you,” said Brooks.

Klaus grinned. “More than you know, baby.”

“How long has it been for you?”

“About two months.”

Brooks smile faded. “Shit.”

“Yeah.”

“Listen, man,” said Brooks. “Getting back, it’s rough. If you ever need anything-”

“Actually,” said Klaus, “There is one thing.”

  
  
  


**48 days after Dave // 18307 days after Dave**

  
  


“Here’s good.”

The car rumbled to a stop. He rubbed his palm over his knee nervously, before pushing the door open. 

“Hey. You want me to come with?” 

“No,” said Klaus. “I’m good. Thanks.”

Diego nodded. “I’ll be waiting here, when you’re ready.”

“Got it,” said Klaus. He nodded to himself, before kicking the car door shut. He steeled himself before pushing open the huge iron gates. 

He kept his eyes focused on the ground ahead of him, even as his lungs seized with panic. 

He didn’t have a lot of good experiences with graveyards. 

He counted off the rows until he got to the right one. This was where he would find him.

The sun was hot against his skin as he wandered along past the tombstones. The place was busy with ghosts, and some visitors too, but it was quiet. Peaceful, even. 

Then, he found the one. A grin tugged over his face, eyes lighting up. Klaus swaggered his way over to where the man sat, leaning back against the tombstone. His head was tilted back so that the sun illuminated his fine features, catching in his blond eyelashes, emphasising the line of his jaw. The man was humming lightly to himself, a cheerful tune.

“Hey, handsome,” said Klaus. “Come here often?”

Blue eyes flicked open, and Dave beamed at him. “Took you long enough.”

  
  



End file.
